Arthur

While Myrddin conceded that he might be mistaken, it did not get us very far. For Lot, as far as I knew, did not have a brother.

Nor was Gwalcmai any help. 'My father has no brother,' he confirmed sadly, 'Loth had but one son, and I have never heard of another.'

This was a problem without an immediate solution. So, I left it to God's care, and went about my own affairs. Myrddin would be well enough to travel in a few days' time, and I was anxious to return to Caer Melyn as swiftly as possible. The weather had turned windy and wet. The days were growing colder. As pleasant as it is, I did not wish to winter on the Glass Isle. We must leave soon if we were to leave at all before spring.

Charis, fearing for her son, was reluctant to let us go. Yet she understood our need and showed me how to change the cloth over Myrddin's eyes, and how to prepare the mud mixture that would soothe her son's burned flesh. From the thick-wooded west side of Shrine Hill, I cut a long staff of rowan for him, so that he would not stumble; it gave him the look of a druid of old, and many who saw him took him as such.

Avallach gave us the pick of his stables; and we took a horse for Myrddin and left the first clear day. The ship waited where we had left it. I paid the fisherman who kept it for us; and we settled the horses on board and then pushed off.

The day was bright and the wind fresh. Yet, when I saw the land receding behind us, a pang of grief pierced me like an arrow. For we were leaving Pelleas behind, and I knew in my bones that we would never see him again.

If my grief throbbed like a wound in my flesh, how much greater was Myrddin's?

'He is gone,' he lamented in a voice so soft it broke my heart to hear it. 'A bright star has fallen from heaven and we will see it no more.'

'How can you be certain?'

'Peace, Bedwyr,' he soothed. 'If he were still alive do you think I would spare myself, even a moment? When in my madness I cowered in the forest, it was Pelleas who found me. He searched for years and never gave up. How could I do less?'

Gwalcmai heard all this and, upon disembarking at Abertaff, he mounted his horse with us, but soon turned onto a southern track. I called after him, 'Caer Melyn is this way! Where do you think you're going?'

He paused and looked back. 'To find Pelleas!' he answered. 'I will not sit at meat with Arthur until I have found him.'

'Gwalcmai!'

The headstrong young warrior set his face to the south and raised his spear in farewell. 'Greet my brother for me, and tell him what has happened.'

'Tell him yourself! Gwalcmai, come back!'

'Let him go,' said Myrddin. 'Let him do what he must.'

'But you said Pelleas was dead.'

'He is.'

'Then his search is senseless.'

"'No,' Myrddin said. 'His search is redemption itself. He may not find Pelleas, but perhaps he will find and reclaim his honour. I tell you the truth, if he stays he will sicken with remorse. Let him go, and he will come back to us a champion.'

Few there are who can stand against the Emrys' inscrutable wisdom. I am not one of them. I did as I was told and granted Gwalcmai leave to go where he would.

Arthur accepted this decision. In view of all that had happened he could do no less, though it chafed him to lose so fine a warrior as Gwalcmai had shown himself to be. He lamented Myrddin's blindness, but was glad to have him returned alive. And Caer Melyn was so busy with preparations for winter that we could not dwell over-long on the mystery of Lot's treachery. We had neglected the stronghold for the whole of the summer, and there was much to do before the icy winds howled down from the north.

We were kept busy during the long winter, too: mending weapons and making new ones, and repairing tack, equipment and wagons. What with all the hammering, sharpening, burnishing and polishing, we might have been such a city of smiths as Bran the Blessed encountered in one of his fabled journeys.

But Arthur knew the coming campaign would be hard fought. He wanted everything to be ready. When Bors returned from Benowyc in Armorica, the Duke aimed to sail to Caer Edyn. For the next attack, he reasoned, would come at Britain's new shipyards.

In this he was not wrong.

Snow still clung to the sides of the mountains when we set out. The wind that filled our sails also cut through our cloaks and set our teeth chattering in our heads. The coastal waters were not as rough as we expected and, after only a few mishaps wherein one or another of our inexperienced seamen floundered or lost the wind, the fleet made good time.

Ectorius had not been idle through the winter, either. He rode down to the new docks to welcome us with the report that five new ships awaited our inspection in the Fiorth.

'Come and see these sleek-hulled beauties,' crowed Ector. 'Lot's wrights are a marvel. As long as we kept them supplied with timber, they worked. Why, we cut the trees and they worked right through the winter and never a grumble about the cold.'

'But I gave them leave to return to Lot in the winter,' said Arthur.

'Is that not what I am saying myself?' replied Ector. 'Lot deemed it best to keep them here. You driving off the barbarian horde saved his ships, so he had no need of them in Orcady.'

'When did Lot leave Caer Edyn?' I asked, hoping to resolve the mystery of his appearance in Llyonesse.

'Well… ' Ector pulled on his red beard. 'It was late.'

'How late?' Arthur asked. He understood what I was after.

'Well, now I think of it, not all that late. Before the Christ Mass, it was.'

'How long before the Christ Mass?'

'Not long – only a few days.'

'And the rest of the time he was here?"

'Where else would he be?' Ectorius was becoming suspicious.

'Are you sure?' I demanded. 'Lot did not leave and come back perhaps?'

'He was here, Lord Bedwyr. You yourself saw him. He was here, and here he stayed until the Christ Mass – or a little before, as I say.'

'You are certain?' said Arthur.

'It is God's truth I am telling,' swore Ector. 'Now then, what is this about?"

Arthur was reluctant to say, so I answered for him. 'Lot was seen in the south – after Lugnasadh, but well before the Christ Mass.'

'No,' Ector shook his head adamantly, 'it is not possible. I know who it is that sits at my board. Lot was with me here.'

So, instead of helping solve the mystery, I had only deepened it. Naturally, we did not speak a word of this to Gwalchavad, who had wintered with Ector and was there to greet us on our return from the south. We told him that his brother had gone in quest of Pelleas, but no more than that. Still, we wondered: who was this second Lot who had rescued Morgian?

The old Roman shipyards lay a short ride east along the coast. We heard the clangour of hammers and the shouts of the labourers before ever we saw the docks. But, coming upon them suddenly around a bend in the shoreline, I would have vowed the Romans had returned.

A whole forest of trees had been felled and stripped, and the logs stacked along the shore, where scores of men shaved, split and trimmed them. Fifty huts and lodges had been built – some to house the workers, some to house ships so that work could continue in bad weather. New wooden docks had been erected on the old stone pilings, and the channels dredged of silt so that the ships could be brought up for repair, or launched without waiting on the tide.

Everywhere I looked I saw men with tools of one sort or another. And the noise! The sawing, the chopping, the shouting – men bawling orders and answering with bellows, yells and roars. The gulls shrieked and chattered overhead, and windblown waves slapped the pilings smartly. The air smelled of fresh-cut wood and sweat, of sea-salt and sawdust. It was as if the world had suddenly woken from its long winter sleep and begun to work at shipbuilding.